05.A.Descent.Into.Hell.2008 (20 page)

“If you hear from Jennifer, have her call me,” Sharon said.

About three o’clock that afternoon, Colton and Laura were both busy. They’d left unit 88 at the Orange Tree in separate cars. As if nothing were wrong, Laura called her parents to discuss her fall schedule at UT. Meanwhile, Colton drove just a few blocks to Breed’s Hardware, an ACE franchise store, and walked inside. An upscale combination hardware and luxury goods store that sells everything from hammers and wrenches to Waterford crystal and Godiva chocolates, Breed’s is a West Campus landmark, one frequented by students who pick up the odds and ends needed to settle into apartments, including UT longhorn salt and pepper shakers and chip-and-dip dishes. The store’s owner, Jeff Breed, encountered a rough-looking young man standing in the hardware section, pushing a cart and looking at a list.

“Need some help?” asked Breed, a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and a mustache.

When he got closer, Breed smelled alcohol on the young man. Colton showed the store owner his shopping list, and Breed guided him through the store. The store was out of one of the items on Pitonyak’s list, paper towels, but Colton grabbed a roll of blue shop towels. He picked up latex gloves, ammonia, Febreze fabric freshener, dust masks, carpet cleaner, and then inquired about a saw.

“What kind do you need?” Breed asked in the saw aisle, in front of a long display of cutting implements.

“Something cheap,” Pitonyak answered, as Breed pointed out a display of small saws hanging from hooks.

When the glassy-eyed young man didn’t choose one, Breed asked, “What do you need it for?”

“I want to cut up a frozen turkey,” Pitonyak said. “I’m frying a turkey today.”

Breed suggested a utility hacksaw, and Pitonyak picked it up and made his way to the checkout.

After Sharon hung up the telephone with Denise, she considered what to do. She thought about Jennifer, how to find her. She’d already called her cell phone and left messages. What else could she do? Sharon picked up her own cell and called T-Mobile, the provider who had her service and phones for all four of her children. She explained what she wanted, and since the account was in Sharon’s name, the woman in the billing department agreed to fax Sharon a printout of Jennifer’s cell phone activity for the previous forty-eight hours.

Sharon paced in her office, waiting, wondering, worrying, until the fax came through. When she glanced over the records, her angst built; Jennifer hadn’t made a single cell phone call since 1:05 the morning before. That wasn’t like Jennifer. She was addicted to the cell phone, in love with it. She wouldn’t go more than a half day without making a phone call.

Her hands trembling, Sharon called Scott and started reading off phone numbers from Jennifer’s call list. When she got to one, a number Jennifer had called the previous evening, Scott said, “That’s Colton’s cell phone.”

That name rang a bell with Sharon. She remembered Colton, the boy Jennifer talked about, the one with drug problems who’d been in jail. “Tell me about Colton,” Sharon said.

“He’s bad news,” Scott said. “Uses a lot of drugs and sells them.”

When she hung up with Scott, Sharon’s head was beginning to pound, and she felt as if the world around her was out of kilter.

“Do you know anything about this Colton guy?” she asked when she called Denise back.

“I know she’s hanging around with that guy, and I don’t like him,” Denise answered.

“I’m thinking about coming to Austin tomorrow morning, if we haven’t found her,” Sharon said. “I’m worried about her.”

“You should come,” Denise said. What she left out was,
I’m worried, too.

As soon as she hung up, Sharon called the phone number on Jennifer’s T-Mobile bill Scott had identified as Colton’s. The ring immediately clicked over to voice mail, and Sharon left a message: “Colton, I’m Jennifer Cave’s mom and I’m looking for her. Call me.”

Eight minutes later, Laura Hall pulled into an Austin filling station where she pumped $50 worth of gas into her green Cadillac and had the car washed. Meanwhile, Colton, his purchases from Breed’s Hardware in the car, drove through a Burger King on his way back to the apartment. He ordered a value meal, with medium fries and a medium Coke, asking them to hold the onions.

In Dallas, Vanessa had gone into her job at the Wyndham Hotel corporate offices only to be laid off. She’d been expecting it. The hotel chain had been talking about cutbacks for months. She drove back to her apartment and lay down on the couch. She felt hopeless and depressed, and she didn’t know why. It wasn’t the layoff, but something else she couldn’t name. “I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me,” she says. “I didn’t feel sick like the night before. I felt like something wasn’t right, but I didn’t know what.”

At five that evening, Sharon called Michael Rodriguez’s cell phone. It was the last number Jennifer had called the night before. The phone went to voice mail, and she left a message: “This is Jennifer’s mother. We’re looking for her. Call me.”

When Michael saw he had a message and listened to Sharon’s anxious voice, he was worried. He thought about Jennifer out with her friend. What if they’d had a car accident? What if she were hurt? He dialed Sharon’s office phone number, the one she’d called from, and she picked up.

“We’re looking for Jennifer,” Sharon said. “She didn’t show up for work, and you’re the last one she talked to on the phone records. Was she okay?”

“Yeah, she was fine,” Michael said.

“Was she drunk?” Sharon asked.

“She didn’t sound like it,” Michael said.

“Do you know who she was with?” Sharon asked.

“She said some guy, some friend of hers named Coltran or something?”

“Colton?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Michael said. “He was acting kind of weird. I don’t know a lot. I wish I could give you more, but I haven’t known Jennifer that long.”

With that, Sharon’s cell phone rang. “Hold on,” she said.

“Colton?” Sharon said into the cell phone. “Have you seen Jennifer?”

“I saw her last night, but we got in an argument and she left about midnight,” he said.

Colton hung up and Sharon got back on the line with Michael. “Colton says he hasn’t seen her since midnight.”

“He’s lying,” Michael said. “He was with her when she called me after one. Why is he lying?”

“Anything else you can tell me?” Sharon asked.

“That’s all I know,” Michael said. “I wish I knew more.”

Sharon talked to Jim on and off all afternoon about Jennifer’s disappearance. They were both worried. Now she did what she’d considered earlier; she called the Austin Police Department and asked for the missing persons division. An officer got on the telephone. She listened as Sharon told her what had happened, and when the officer asked, Sharon admitted that Jennifer had used drugs. Yet she felt that wasn’t what was going on.

“Your daughter is an adult, and she won’t technically be missing for twenty-four hours,” the officer said. “If she hasn’t shown up by tomorrow morning, you can file a report.”

That evening, while Sharon grew increasingly anxious in Corpus Christi, in Austin, Eli, Laura Ingles, and other friends helped Scott move some of his furniture into the two-story house he’d rented, on a quiet, tree-lined street. They were all talking about Jennifer, how no one had seen her, how she hadn’t returned any of their phone calls. Of them all, only Scott wasn’t worried. If anything, he was disappointed in Jennifer, causing so many people such concern when she was undoubtedly out partying somewhere.

When Laura heard that Jennifer was with Colton, however, she grew instantly frightened. “He’s not a nice guy,” she whispered to Eli. “You need to call the police and tell them.”

“No,” Eli said. “Jennifer’s okay.”

“No, she’s dead,” Laura said. “I can’t tell you how I know, but I know. Jennifer’s gone.”

Eli looked at Laura, shook his head, and then he started to cry.

Disappointed, Sharon hung up the telephone with the missing persons officer. A little while later, she called Scott back. He listened to her fears, but “blew them off.” Scott didn’t want to tell Sharon, but if Jennifer was with Colton, the most likely scenario was that she was high on drugs and too messed up to talk to her mother. But Scott had had enough of it. He wanted Jennifer to call her mother and keep everyone from worrying.

As soon as he hung up the telephone with Sharon, Scott called Colton. No one answered, and he left a message: “Colton, we know Jennifer’s at your house, so you need to tell her that her mom’s looking for her.”

Colton called back. “What’s going on?”

“They know Jen’s at your house,” Scott said. “She needs to call her mom, now.”

“I haven’t seen her,” Colton insisted. He sounded irritated and wired.

“Her mom has called the cops,” Scott said. “They’re going to be looking for her.”

“I don’t know anything,” Colton said, angry. “That bitch is going to get me arrested.”

In Corpus Christi, Sharon Cave called Austin hospitals, the morgue, everywhere she could think of that Jennifer could be if she were hurt or, worse, dead. She considered driving to Austin that night, but didn’t know what she would do once she got there. At least, from the house, she was busy making phone calls, not driving a car. Sharon felt certain Colton was lying, but she didn’t know why. All she knew was that the radar that connected her to her middle daughter wasn’t working. She hadn’t felt Jennifer all day. Usually, even if they were thousands of miles apart, she felt tethered to her kids. The psychological, emotional, or supernatural rope that tied her to Jennifer had somehow disconnected. Something was very, very wrong.

At 6:45 that evening, Sharon knew little more than she had that afternoon when Bill Thompson first called her, and she was frantic. She called Colton again, but he didn’t return her call.

Waiting for him to respond, Sharon and Jim walked through the house, not knowing what to do. The night yawning empty before them, he convinced her to take a drive. From the front seat of the Suburban, Jim called Colton for Sharon, and left a stern message: “Colton, this is Jim Sedwick. Her mother and I are looking for Jennifer. We know you were the last person she was seen with. The police are looking for her, and you really need to call me back.”

After he left the voice mail, they drove to Havana, a restaurant they both liked. Jennifer had worked there part-time the same summer she’d worked at the bank, before she’d moved to San Marcos and her life had dissolved into drugs. At the bar, Jim and Sharon sat sipping drinks and feeling helpless.

Finally, at 8:37, Sharon’s cell phone rang. It was Colton. Later they’d learn that he was at Mr. Gatti’s pizzeria on Martin Luther King Boulevard in Austin with Laura Hall. “Colton, we know Jennifer was with you last night after midnight. You were the last one to see her,” she said. “You need to tell us where she is.”

Colton answered, his voice dripping in contempt: “Dude, I’m having pizza with my friend. Don’t bother me.”

“Let me tell you something, Colton,” Sharon said, furious. “I called the police and missing persons. I am going to find Jennifer. So you need to just tell me what you know.”

“Good luck,” he said. “I don’t know where she’s at, dude. I’m eating pizza.”

With that, Colton hung up the telephone.

For a few moments, Sharon and Jim looked at each other, neither knowing what to do. Then Jim said, “We need to get to Austin in the morning, and we need a plan. Let’s go home and pack a bag.”

In Austin that evening, Ryan Martindill’s telephone rang. Laura Hall wanted to swing by his apartment and pick up her bottle of rum from the night before. Ryan wouldn’t be home, but he called his roommate, Salzman, and filled him in on the plan. When the apartment doorbell rang, Salzman opened up, and there stood Laura with Colton beside her. They bustled in, and Salzman introduced himself and shook Pitonyak’s hand. Colton seemed somewhat withdrawn, which surprised Salzman. He’d heard about Laura’s boyfriend and his gangster image. Acting like all was well, Laura grabbed the bottle of rum, and she and Colton quickly left.

Meanwhile, in Corpus Christi, while Sharon packed enough clothes for a few days, Jim called Sidney Smith, a family friend and a private investigator. Jim explained only that they had “a family problem,” and asked if Smith could meet them at seven the next morning at a Cracker Barrel restaurant. Smith had a busy day planned, but he quickly agreed.

The rest of that evening, Jim and Sharon walked through the house like strangers, passing each other, not knowing what to say, what to do. At one point, he grabbed her and pulled her to him. Sharon wasn’t crying, but her voice was raspy and tense. “This is bad isn’t it?” she asked.

“Yeah, baby,” he said, in his gruff, hoarse voice, now worn thin with emotion. “This is going to be pretty bad.”

As he held her, Sharon finally cried, giving in to the fear that had been haunting her all day.

Meanwhile, in Little Rock that evening, Bridget Pitonyak also appeared to be more than a little concerned about what was transpiring in Austin. At 9:20, she messaged Colton on his cell phone:
TEXT ME. I’M A NERVOUS WRECK NOT KNOWING WHAT’S GOING ON.

One minute later, at 9:21, Colton responded, keying in:
GOING TO HOUSTON
.

Later it would seem an odd exchange, begging many questions: Why was Bridget so worried? What had Colton told her? How much, if anything, did she know about Jennifer’s disappearance? What reason did Colton give for fleeing Austin in the darkness?

The evidence would later show that Colton lied to Bridget about at least one thing that night. As he typed his response, Colton wasn’t barreling in the night toward Texas’s biggest city. With Sharon Cave’s threat of involving the police hanging over him, Bridget Pitonyak’s younger son sped toward a vastly different destination.

That night, neither Sharon nor Jim slept. After a few hours, Sharon got up and went to her office. She gathered Jennifer’s cell phone records and wrote down everything she’d done and discovered, documenting her phone calls with Colton. Then she made three copies: one for herself, one for the police, and one for Smith, the private investigator. It was all she could think of to do that might help find Jennifer. She knew in her heart that the road they’d take in the morning to Austin would lead to life-altering pain. One thought haunted her: Jennifer had never gone a full day without talking to her, even when they were angry with each other, even when Jennifer was deep into drugs. If Jennifer could get to a telephone, she would have called. That she hadn’t meant Jennifer was either in dire trouble and couldn’t get to a telephone, or dead. Throughout that long night, Sharon called Jennifer’s cell phone off and on, taking what little comfort she could from hearing her lost daughter’s voice on the recorded message.